Smith
by Lomax343
Summary: Dav is eighteen and bored with his life. Then one day a strange girl comes to his village. A pretty red-headed girl with a mysterious bundle and a whole raft of secrets. Could this be the start of the adventure Dav has always dreamed of? Warning - this is possibly the only Red Sonja story ever written in which nobody dies.
1. Dav and the new girl in town

**SMITH **

I

Dav took a bite out of his apple and turned the corner; and two lives changed for ever.

Before him a gang of local youths with nothing better to do were gathered closely round someone he didn't recognise. A tall girl aged seventeen or so, with striking red hair; clearly a stranger in town. She was backed up against a wall and there was fear in her eyes.

She wasn't in any actual danger, Dav knew; the worst that would happen to her apart from the name-calling would be to have her hair pulled or be tripped into some muddy puddle. The girl didn't seem to realise this, however, and kept glancing around for someone to come to her rescue.

Or so it seemed to Dav. A couple of years previously he would've been part of the taunting gang; but he was eighteen now, and above that sort of thing. Which is not to say that he was about to let slip an opportunity to impress a pretty girl.

"Nikos!" He called, "leave the poor girl alone."

The leader of the gang turned round. He was sixteen, whip-thin, and had a face overwhelmed with acne. "What's she to you?" With his gang to back him up, he spoke big; but there was no real fight in him, Dav knew. Nor malice, really.

"Just beat it."

"And if I don't?"

Dav flicked his wrist. A half-eaten apple sailed through the air and struck Nikos on the chin. Dav smiled to himself. A lucky shot. Perhaps it was an omen.

Nikos glared thunderously at Dav, then skulked off. In ones and twos the rest of his gang followed him. Dav paid them no further heed and approached the red-headed girl.

"Hello," he said, "my name's Dav. What's yours?"

"Sonja."

Dav was slightly disappointed. He'd expected some sort of thanks, at least, but the girl didn't seem any more well-disposed to him than she'd been to Nikos and his cronies. Still, early days.

"You're new around here, aren't you?"

"Just passing through."

"Where to?"

"Just passing."

Dav's heart began to sink. He hadn't expected the girl to throw grateful arms around him and smother him with kisses, though that would've been nice; but he had been hoping for a more generous reception. He tried again.

"Don't worry about them," he said, gesturing in the direction of the departed Nikos and his gang. "They wouldn't really have hurt you."

"I know; I was worried that I might have had to hurt them."

Now that was an answer he hadn't expected. Like most adolescents he knew all about boasting, but this girl sounded as if she was stating a plain fact. He looked at her more closely. Yes, she was pretty; or would be if she cleaned herself up a bit and did something about her hair. Her clothes were simple and boyish – no self-respecting local girl of her age would've been seen dead in britches – and were travel-stained. They showed signs of more than one hasty repair. There was caked mud on her boots.

"You're from Hyrkania, aren't you?" Dav asked her.

"How can you tell?"

"Your hair. Red-heads are common in Hyrkania, I'm told."

"Have you ever been there?"

A question; a contribution to the conversation. Good; let her keep it up. You could be in here Dav, old chum.

"No, but I've met people from there. Travellers, traders, that sort. They come here across the mountains. Did you cross the mountains?"

"Yes."

"On foot?"

"Yes."

"Alone?"

A long pause. Then; "Yes."

"A long walk." Which it was. The mountains that separated Dav's village from the plains of Hyrkania weren't particularly high, and the passes were perfectly straightforward except in the severest of winters; but even so it was a long journey and not to be undertaken lightly.

"And what brings you here?"

"Just passing through, like I said. I'm looking for something."

"What?"

"I'll know that when I find it."

Pretty _and_ mysterious. Better and better. Dav knew about girls, or at least he thought he did. Clearly this one was going to be a challenge, but that would make his eventual victory all the sweeter. His first move was pretty obvious, though.

"Look, are you hungry?"

Again the hesitation before answering. "Yes." The girl's tone suggested she'd said something shameful; admitted to a weakness.

"Well come along then. Mother Daffin's booth is just around here."

"Your mother?"

"What? Oh no; I don't think she's got a family at all. But everyone calls her Mother Daffin, and her cooking's not bad."

The girl hesitated. "I haven't any money."

"Don't worry about that."

"But -"

"But nothing. Look, you're a stranger in town; isn't it polite for someone to show you a little hospitality? Besides, from the look of you, you haven't eaten in some time."

The girl's eyes flashed as if she was biting back some angry retort; but evidently she decided to be practical.

"Alright, then."

"Good. This way."

Dav gestured. Before starting to follow him, the girl stooped and picked up some sort of bundle. It was long and thin, with furs wrapped tightly about it.

"What have you got there?"

"None of your business."

More mysteries; this promised to be fun. Mustn't rush it though. This one needs to be handled gently. Just make sure she doesn't leave town before you're ready to make your move.


	2. Dav and Sonja and Mother Daffin

**SMITH **

II

Mother Daffin's booth was a ramshackle affair with a dozen tables, at which a variety of people were eating busily. The smells were enticing. Dav found a small table near the back that wasn't occupied and he and his new friend sat down. A short, dumpy woman in her sixties waddled up to them.

"Greetings, Mother," said Dav, cheerfully. "This is Sonja; she's from Hyrkania." His tone of voice implied that he already had some claim over her. "What's your special today?"

"Venison stew."

"Two helpings then, please. Large helpings. And a jug of Kintra."

Mother Daffin kept her face impassive. She'd seen enough men, young and old, trying to impress girls with their largesse. It always amused her. Nevertheless, she wasn't about to ignore her own interests.

"Lets see the colour of your money, then."

"Oh, _Mother_," said Dav reproachfully, scattering coins on the table. It was a fair chunk of his allowance for the week. Still, he could borrow more from Fal if need be; and next week would take care of itself, somehow.

The food when it arrived was rich and filling. Sonja, though she tried to disguise the fact, ate heartily. Kintra proved to be a deep red wine, which Dav extolled as being the finest in the district, and the perfect accompaniment to venison.

"Try it."

"We usually drink ale in Hyrkania."

Ah; so she's not used to wine. I could get her tipsy and then… but no, that wouldn't be fair.

"Try it anyway."

Sonja did so.

"Well?"

"Mmm, yes it's good."

"Have some more." He poured her another beaker. She drank it.

People were leaving the booth. Now came the tricky part.

"Look, I have to get back to work now.."

"What do you do?"

Yes! She asked. She's interested. "I'm a blacksmith. Well, my father is really; but it's my trade. The forge has been in our family for four generations now; I'll be the fifth. Why not come back with me? There are always people there to gossip with."

"Maybe but…" But what? Her next words were crucial. Oh Gods, please don't say I've splashed out on a jug of Kintra for nothing.

"Is there a bath-house in this village anywhere?"

Thank you Gods! That's a sacrifice I owe you. When I can afford it. "Well, I just use the river myself." He smiled widely to show he was teasing, "But there's a more civilised alternative down by the wharves. He gestured. You can't miss it. Cost you a penny, though. Here; please take it."

He pushed another coin across the table. Sonja looked at it for a moment, then took it up.

"Thanks. And how will I find the forge afterwards?"

"Just ask anyone. I must be off now. I'll see you later, I hope?"

"You will."

Dav got up to leave.

"Dav?" Sonja said. It was the first time she'd used his name. His heart skipped a beat.

"Yes?"

"Thank-you."

"You're welcome," he said; but she was already heading for the wharves, carrying her strange bundle.


	3. Dav and Sonja and Uncle Galt

**SMITH **

III

She came to the forge. For all his outward confidence Dav hadn't been absolutely sure that she would; but she came.

He'd received a tongue-lashing from his father for being late for the afternoon's work, but that hadn't worried him. It wasn't the first he'd ever received, and he didn't suppose it would be the last. He'd set to with a will, but with half a mind on what, he hoped, was to come. He'd stripped to the waist – something he didn't usually do; and had taken every opportunity he could to stand close to the fire so that his body glistened with sweat. His father, who himself had been eighteen once, raised an amused eye-brow in the direction of Uncle Galt (not really Dav's uncle, but a man who'd worked with his father so long he'd become part of the family). Dav didn't notice.

The afternoon passed. It became late; but just as Dav was beginning to abandon hope, she came. Or rather, she stood just outside the open door to the smithy, looking in. Naturally, he pretended not to have noticed her. Instead, he toiled away even more furiously, making sure that his muscles rippled (he was a blacksmith's son and had first picked up a hammer at the age of three. He was _good_ at rippling). He was entirely oblivious of the fact that his father and Uncle Galt were having trouble keeping straight faces.

"That'll do for today." It was a phrase Dav's father uttered every evening, though it seemed to have some special meaning on this occasion. There was a bucket of cold water by the door, and he and Uncle Galt crossed to it and dipped wooden beakers into it. Forge work was thirsty work. Neither of them seemed to notice the red-headed girl loitering outside, but put their heads together and started to discuss; well something anyway. Dav busied himself putting tools away, also not looking at he girl, though in a very _obvious_ way. There was an expectancy in the air. Then the girl advanced, filled another beaker with cool water, and offered it wordlessly to Dav. He accepted it equally mutely (dimly aware of a strangled snort from Uncle Galt as he and his father vanished into the adjoining house) and drained it.

"You came," he said at last.

"Yes."

That was the whole extent of their conversation; at least verbally. Non-verbally there was much more; and though Dav wasn't entirely sure what was passing between them, it felt good. He looked at Sonja. Her clothes were still patched and worn, but they were certainly more presentable than when he'd last seen them; and the mud was gone from her boots. Her hair was cleaner, too, and free of tangles; it positively shone. As did her eyes. Green eyes, that looked at him with an expression he couldn't quite fathom. He leaned very slightly towards her.

"Davorik!" Dav jumped and spun round. A plump woman was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "Wash up for supper. You've got five minutes. I've set a place for your friend." The woman turned and left without waiting for any acknowledgement.

Dav turned back to Sonja and shrugged apologetically. "My mother."

"Obviously. And Davorik?"

"My full name. Only my mother ever uses it. Everyone else calls me Dav."

"Davorik… It suits you."

"Er, thanks. Is there any more to _your_ name?"

"No; Sonja. Just Sonja."

"It's not enough."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, really. I know we've only just met and all that, but I can tell there's a lot to you. A lot of, well, _story_, if you know what I mean." Dav rather hoped that Sonja _did_ know what he meant, because he himself wasn't sure at all.

"What would you suggest?"

Dav pondered. Thinking wasn't his greatest talent. He was no fool, and usually got there in the end, but he had to wait for ideas to form. Eventually he said, "Red Sonja. Yes, that sounds better. What do you think?"

"I think we should wash up for supper."

"What? Yes, mother doesn't like to be kept waiting. Come on."

"Davorik?"

"Yes?"

"You _are_ going to put a shirt on, aren't you?"


	4. Dav and Sonja and Dav's mother

**SMITH **

IV

Supper was both a delight and ordeal. It was a delight because he was sitting opposite a pretty girl who looked at him in a manner which suggested she was not entirely ill-disposed towards him. It was an ordeal because Uncle Galt had stopped even trying to keep a smirk off his face; and his father was almost as bad.

It was Dav's mother who did most of the talking. That at least was normal. When they had no guests she'd keep up a virtual monologue about doings in various parts of the village, to which her husband would respond, "Really, dear; what happened then, dear; I would never have guessed that, dear…" at suitable intervals. This evening, however, Dav's mother questioned the red-headed girl. It wasn't exactly an interrogation, but it did seem to Dav that Sonja was being sounded out in some way. Whatever; at least it meant that he didn't need to come up with a constant stream of witty things to say.

Sonja answered all the questions politely and with patience. Yes, she was from Hyrkania. She'd been brought up on a farm. No, she had no family living (she was a bit vague on the reasons for this, and Dav's mother didn't press the point). Her clothes? Well, she'd had two older brothers and times had been hard, sometimes. No, she didn't really know where she was headed; something would turn up.

Each face round the table expressed the thought, "Perhaps it just has," though with varying degrees of seriousness. No mention was made of the long bundle Sonja carried with her, and which she'd left propped unobtrusively by the door.

Finally, Dav broached the subject he'd been trying to steel himself to mention. "Father? You know we're not too busy at the moment -"

"Alright, but just half a day."

"_What?_"

"You were about to ask if you could have tomorrow off so that you could show Sonja some of the country around here."

"Er, yes; but how..?"

"One day, boy, you'll realise that your father isn't a complete fool. Tomorrow morning old Conig will be in. His plough-horse needs shoeing. You can help me with that. Then you can do what you like with the afternoon. I suggest you try the waterfall up in the West Woods."

"Er, why?" Dav asked.

"Because that's where I took your mother."

"Yes, and his knees knocked all the way there."

Dav blushed crimson. Surely has parents hadn't – well, technically they must've done, he supposed – but _really_. He stole a glance at Sonja; she was smiling broadly. Dav managed to turn an even brighter red.

After supper Dav's father and Uncle Galt lit their pipes, whilst Dav's mother bustled in the kitchen. Dav smiled at Sonja, trying desperately to think of something to say. Their conversation was a form of torture. Flirting with a girl was one thing. Doing so in front of one's parents was quite another. There was a tremor in his right leg, and more than once he stumbled over his words.

The worst part was that Sonja seemed to get the joke. There was certainly a strange smile on her face; perhaps she enjoyed teasing boys. On the other hand, she seemed happy to talk to him. She had an odd habit of breaking eye-contact every now and then, and staring at the table for a bit. At first, Dave thought this was because she was shy; but he soon rejected this idea. However demure her behaviour, it was plain that Sonja had a core of steel.

And she liked him. Dav was sure that Sonja liked him. He laid his hand flat on the table, a few inches from Sonja's. He waited. Sonja moved her hand forward. Their fingers touched; their eyes spoke to each other…

"Right, young lady," said Dav's mother. Dav and Sonja each gave a guilty start, but Dav's mother gave no sign that she'd noticed. "I've made up a bed for you in the kitchen," she said. "It's not much, I'm afraid, but it's warm and dry. And in the morning, whilst these men-folk are busy in the forge, you can help me with the chores. I suppose you know how to use a broom?"


	5. Dav and Sonja: a kiss and a parting

**SMITH **

V

It wasn't much of a waterfall. Actually it wasn't a waterfall at all; more a cascade where a lively stream danced and gurgled its way over some glistening rocks. Still, it was a pretty enough spot, with shady trees and bright flowers and birds singing sweetly. It had taken them about an hour to get there. They'd walked most of the way in silence. Not an uncomfortable silence; but Dav was becoming increasingly aware that it was up to him to make some sort of move. He'd considered offering to hold hands as they walked through the woods, but something had stopped him.

Eventually, as they sat on the grass admiring the view, he broached the subject which had been nagging at him since they'd first met.

"Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Why do you carry a sword?"

"What?"

"That bundle, so carefully wrapped in furs." She'd brought it with her. "What else could it be?"

"Many things."

"Such as?"

"Oh alright, it's a sword. It was my father's. It was in his hand when he died. Happy now?"

"If I've offended you, no. But may I see it?"

"Why?"

"Curiosity."

A long silence. Then; "Oh, why not?" Sonja unwrapped the bundle and produced the weapon, which she silently handed to Dav. He unsheathed it, and stared at the blade for a long time.

"This is a fine weapon," he said eventually.

"What do you know about swords?"

"Not much. But I _do_ know about steel; I'm a blacksmith, remember. And I know craftsmanship when I see it." He studied the bright metal. "This wasn't forged anywhere round here. Nor in Hyrkania either. Where did it come from?"

"My father was a soldier before he was a farmer. This was made somewhere in the east. I don't know where exactly."

"A soldier who became a farmer; yet who died with a sword in his hand."

"Yes." Sonja sat hugging her knees, staring unseeingly at the distant horizon. "My family were – murdered. Last year. My father, my mother, my brothers…" There were no tears in Sonja's eyes; but the tone of her voice suggested that there ought to have been. Dav moved to sit beside her. He put his arm round her shoulders; to comfort her.

Instantly, she pushed it away, and slapped Dav hard across the face.

"Don't touch me!"

"I'm sorry, Sonja – I didn't mean -"

"You men are all the same. Brains in your britches, every one. You've heard that my family was murdered, but you can see that I wasn't. Hasn't it occurred to you to wonder why?"

"Why?"

"Because the men who did it had other uses for me."

This took a second to sink in. "You mean?"

"Yes, idiot. I was raped. _Raped_. You haven't the faintest idea what that means, have you? Not really. No man has; and I haven't the time or the patience to try to explain it to you. Raped and left for dead. But I didn't die. Or if I did, I was re-born. Stronger. Tougher. Merciless. An instrument of vengeance."

"I'm sorry. Truly I am. But I'm not a bad person, or at least, I hope I'm not. I only wanted to be your friend."

"And to sleep with me."

Whoa! Dav's eyes were wide with shock. His ambitions towards girls revolved around tongues and a bit of groping. Actually sleeping with one was no more than a theoretical possibility for the future.

He composed himself. "Well, yes," he said, slowly, "if I'm being honest, I would like to sleep with you. But only if you wanted to as much as I did. It's what men and women do."

"Yes; I suppose it is," Sonja said. "Most men and women, anyway; but not me. I'm different. I didn't choose to be, but I am. I follow my own path."

"The path of revenge?"

"Yes. But not just against those who – used me. Against all those who think that women are there to be used. Against all those who prey on the weak just because they can."

"Sounds a tall order."

"I've got a lifetime to achieve it."

"Possibly. Tell me, can you use that sword?"

"Yes."

"So why keep it hidden?"

"My time has not yet come. I'm gathering my strength at the moment. I'm like a storm building. When I'm ready, my fury will be terrible."

"When will you be ready?"

"I don't know. But I know there will come a time when I declare myself openly; and I know that I'll recognise that day when it comes. And I know it will be soon."

Dav stared into Sonja's eyes. They were like none he'd ever seen before. They frightened him.

"Tell me something," he asked.

"What?"

"Why did you come to the forge? Why did you come up here with me?"

"I don't know. Perhaps because there's still a part of me that wants to reject my destiny; part that wants a normal life. One that doesn't involve the things I see in my dreams."

"What things?"

"Terrible things. Things that will become legends. Legends and tales of horror."

"I see. And do your dreams tell you whether you will have a – companion as you carve out your legends?"

"Companion? You mean husband?"

"Possibly." Dav couldn't quite meet Sonja's eye. He felt himself blushing.

"That part is unclear to me," Sonja said. "But I must tell you; I took an oath. A solemn oath to – you may not believe this. Sometimes I don't believe it myself. But I took an oath to a Goddess that appeared before me as I lay dying."

"And what was this oath?" Dav asked.

"That I would never give myself to any man unless he had first defeated me in a fair fight."

"Be careful who you pick a quarrel with, then."

"Don't underestimate me. You know when you drove off Nikos and his gang?"

"Yes?"

"I was grateful; not because you'd stopped them hurting me, but because you'd stopped _me_ hurting _them_."

"I remember. I thought at the time it seemed an odd thing to say."

"It was true, nevertheless. I didn't _want_ to hurt them – they were just being bad-mannered really. But I know that if you hadn't come along, I'd've lost control. Killed one of them, possibly."

"Surely -" Dav looked up, shocked.

"Yes, killed," Sonja told him. "I'm a killer. Don't ask me how I know; I just know. The Goddess gave me a gift, or possibly a curse. As well as the desire for vengeance, she gave me the power to carry it out. The power to fight, with weapons or without. The power to triumph; or at least survive to meet the next challenge."

"It sounds as though you fear this path."

"I do."

"Then turn aside form it. Stay here. Part of you wants to."

"Yes; but the other part is stronger. Look, Davorik -"

"No. Not Davorik. If you want to stay and be my girl, it's Davorik. If you want to leave and hack a bloody swathe through the world, I'm Dav."

"_Your_ girl? I don't want to be _your_ anything, or anyone's anything, come to that. I belong to me."

"It's just a phrase."

"To you it is. To me?"

Dav sighed. "So; you're leaving." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

"Tonight?"

"Now. I'm sorry, Dav. I like you, I really do. If things were different for me I might've been happy to be your girl. But something's calling me, and I have to answer. Perhaps one day -" her voice trailed off.

"You know, I've always wanted to see a bit of the world," Dav said.

"No you haven't. Not really. Your roots are here. Fifth generation blacksmith; and your son will be the sixth."

"Did the Goddess give you the gift of prophesy also?"

"No; but there are some things it doesn't take a gift to see. Don't be sad. Roots are good. I wish I had some."

Sonja leant forward, and kissed Dav on the cheek. "That's to remember me by." She picked up her sword and re-wrapped it in the furs. "Good-bye, Dav." She got up and started to walk away.

"Good-bye, Sonja," Dav called after her. She paused, and turned back to him.

"That's Red Sonja. You were right – it does fit me better." Then she walked on, and never looked back again.


	6. Red Sonja and perhaps a moment of regret

**SMITH **

VI

Years later, a stranger came to the village. A woman; with a dark cloak, and a hood pulled closely over her head, hiding her features. She walked unobtrusively through the streets and spoke to no-one.

She walked as if she knew where she was going, and soon came to the forge. The door was open, and she looked inside. The blacksmith had his back to her. He was squatting on his haunches, beside a boy of about four years of age. He was showing the boy how the bellows worked.

The woman watched for a moment, then turned on her heel and walked away. Her eyes bore a wistful expression as she imagined what the boy would've looked like with red hair.


End file.
